you want to believe it (you'll have to go slow)
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: John's made mistakes where Amelia's concerned. Time is running out to correct them. one shot. Amelia lives!AU.


**Author's Note:** This is, in my opinion, the best thing I've written all year. So, much thanks to my team for sticking with the crap I've written this season! :P

Written for…

Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. _Team/Position:_ Falmouth Falcons, Seeker. _Task:_ What if Amelia Bones lived

Hogwarts Assignment #3. _Lesson:_ Magical Law and Government, task 3. _Task:_ Write about trying to fix something

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**you want to believe it (you'll have to go slow)**

_1,300 words_

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The Ministry was in shambles. Some chaos was to be expected after the confirmation of You-Know-Who's return just weeks before, but the sudden resignation of Cornelius Fudge had sent Level One spiraling in panic and confusion.

John tried not to think too hard about the state of things. His general attitude in life was to mind his business and focus on where he was in the moment. Thinking of the future only opened the door to uncertainty and anxiety, neither of which he had the time for.

The lift doors opened to Level Two and John sauntered his way down the corridor, smiling at his old colleagues from the Auror offices. He stopped at the closed door of the Head of the Department's office, admiring the glittering letters that spelled out Amelia's name. He knocked twice and waited for a reply, tapping his fingers on the doorframe.

"Your impatience is your most annoying habit, you know," Amelia commented, walking up behind him.

He spun around, scoffing. "That implies that I have other annoying habits."

"Well done, you worked it out." She led the way into her office and settled herself behind the heavy oak desk. John took in how worn out she looked compared to the last time they'd spoken some months ago. There were noticeable bags under her eyes, and more grey hairs than he remembered.

"I wanted to talk to you…"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He pulled up a chair. "The Ministry is falling apart, Ames. They need a strong leader."

Amelia studied him for a long moment. "What is this, John? Are you trying to secure a job?"

He shrugged. "I've got one either way, don't I? I'll just get thrown back to old Scrimgeour if you won't have me."

"Well, it's hardly up to me."

"It is if you're the Minister."

"That's just a silly rumor."

"You and I both know they'll choose you."

"You and I both know that you're just here to get in my good graces again."

John couldn't argue with that. He turned away, his eyes landing on the picture of Amelia's niece that sat on her desk.

"Look, Ames, we've known each other for years, you know I never meant anything—"

"You called me crazy for believing in what Dumbledore said. I remember, John. You said I was letting my fears cloud my judgment. And now look at the Ministry, wholly unprepared for a war."

"I'm sorry. Honestly. Just, please, let me explain. Have dinner with me tonight."

Amelia shook her head. "I'm having dinner at my brother's tonight." John knew her well enough not to suggest she cancel her plans. Nothing came between Amelia and her family. "I have work to do. Close the door on your way out."

John gave in, leaving her to her work and returning to the Minister's office.

:-:

John returned to Amelia's office the following morning with a box of ice mice. They were her favorite sweet, though she usually denied such things at work. But he still remembered their days in Auror training, spending late nights sharing take out and ice mice.

He knocked on her door and waited once more, hoping that the sweets would at least soften her feelings towards him. And if not, they would be a congratulatory present for her promotion. There was no doubt in his mind that the job was hers.

Several minutes passed, and John wondered if he had, for the first time in his life, arrived at work before Amelia Bones. It would be an achievement for sure.

A young Auror walked past him and he stopped her.

"Has Madam Bones been in today?"

"You haven't heard? There was a fire at her home this morning. Alarms went off and everything."

"A fire?" John could feel his heart racing. "Is she okay? Is she in the hospital?"

"I'm sorry, sir, they're saying she passed away."

John could hardly believe it. Amelia was the strongest person he'd ever known, and to die in a fire… unless it wasn't a fire. It was horrible to think, but Amelia had been outspoken in her support of Dumbledore, and she was a shoe-in for Minister. If You-Know-Who really was back—and John wasn't about to make the same stupid mistake twice—then she could have been the target of an attack.

He felt awful, slowly making his way to his own desk, ice mice still in hand. If he'd only listened to her sooner, maybe she wouldn't have met the same fate as her parents and brother.

_Her brother._

John stopped in his tracks. Amelia was a private person, and she didn't open up easily. There was a good chance that he was the only person in the whole department who had been introduced to her younger brother and his family, though it had been some time since their last meeting. Still, the news of Amelia's death was surely better coming from him rather than a complete stranger…

He rushed to Oscar Bones' house, where John had been invited for Christmas dinner as Amelia's plus-one many times. Sadly, their days of being attached at the hip were long over.

He steeled himself to deliver the bad news, unsure of how to even say it. He was still holding the box of sweets, he realized as he rang the doorbell. Perhaps it could be a consolation gift.

The door opened and John caught sight of a mess of red curls in his peripheral before he turned and gaped.

"John?" Amelia questioned, standing in front of him in a nightgown, very much alive. "What are you doing here?"

"What… what are _you_ doing here? I thought you were dead."

Amelia's eyes widened. She stepped aside, allowing John room to enter the house, which he did cautiously, still not entirely sure that this wasn't some sort of trap.

"Susan had a bad feeling last night and she wanted me to stay the night," Amelia explained in a hushed whisper. "Now, what did you say about me being dead?"

"Your house… there was a fire… they said you were gone." He felt relief wash over him as he accepted that this was real; his Amelia was still safe. But he could see the realization hitting her as she was faced with what could have happened to her.

She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself as—John was sure—she was reminded of the family she'd lost to the war already. "He came for me."

"I believe so," he muttered, staring down at the box in his hands. "I got these for you, before… I wanted to apologize for my stupidity. I should know better than to doubt you, Ames. And this has nothing to do with you becoming Minister or the fact that you almost died. No, that's a lie. You almost died and I wouldn't have been able to tell you how sorry I was and that I… I miss you. I miss our friendship, and whatever we could have been." He forced the box into her hands, afraid that she would kick him out for his confession before he had a chance to give it to her.

They stood in silence for a moment as Amelia processed his confession, until a young woman with bouncing red curls to rival her aunt's descended the stairs and flashed them smiles as she walked past.

"Morning, Auntie. Morning, John."

John waved, letting his hand fall as Susan disappeared into the kitchen. He returned his attention to Amelia, surprised to find her smiling at him.

"There's a lot we need to talk about," she said, and he noticed with satisfaction that she was clutching the ice mice to her abdomen. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

John grinned, feeling hopeful. "I would love to."


End file.
